


As Natural an Expression.

by CountlessUntruths (KaliCephirot)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Spoilers for Zuko backstory.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliCephirot/pseuds/CountlessUntruths
Summary: After Zuko's defeat at the Agni Kai, Iroh reflects on the four nations different takes in healing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://cliche-bingo.livejournal.com/profile)[cliche_bingo](http://cliche-bingo.livejournal.com/): “It's the way of my people”: Traditions.

**As Natural an Expression.**

Among the four nations, the best healers have always been the benders of the Water tribe, using the gift the moon has given them to sooth and take care of every wound, let it be big or small. The flow of energy gets in sync with both bodies, that of the healer and the wounded, and, according to the Water Tribe legends, always romantic, their souls link to each other.

But the best shamans had always been the ones that came from the Earth Kingdom. The benders who had lived to learn the way of the land didn't know only of stone and rock, but of soil as well. They knew where the mysterious moonlilies' wort, whose infusion was the best antidote for the bite of the poisonous snake-toad, or where the roots of the Neem tree would be ready to be torn and used as a cream that would sooth even the most serious burning.

From the accounts that remained of the Air Nomads, they had believed in chakra healing, meditating and just letting the clean, pure air of the four temples breath in and out and cleanse their bodies from sickness. If needed, of course, they as well knew about fruits and plants that grew up there where no-one, not even an earthbender, would be able to reach them, unless they knew the currents of the air better than they knew themselves.

But the Fire Nation doctors know nothing of this. Few firebenders have the patience to become doctors, the fire inside most benders always burning, burning, asking for more, making them ill fitted to the task. The doctors of the Fire Nation know little of herbs - they burn so easily - and they care little of water - fire makes the water disappear - and they know little of air - they only needed to make the fire burn. Fire Nation's tradition say that one must survive fevers with no aid since you must be able to control your own fire.

When the court doctors tell Iroh that Zuko is, most likely, going to be blind for the rest of his life, Iroh sends them away.

Ursa, as proud as any woman of the Fire Nation, twice as much, perhaps, since she also had been a noble, had also been an Avatar's grand daughter, and she had been a little too quiet, a little too sad, a little too secretive. And while she never had the firebending gift, she had also been a fantastic gardener, a small secret that she had only shared with a few people, himself included.

The garden no longer exists: Ozai had it destroyed a few weeks after his wife disappeared. But Iroh had kept as much of it as he could, so it's him who takes the roots of the Neem tree, chopping them, mixing oil and beeswax at the porcelain dish, warming it slowly, slowly as he made sure everything mixed.

Iroh is no shaman, but grief has taught him patience, and his travels had taught him a thing or two that have come in handy in a number on occasions, and this time he makes sure he uses every trick, every single thing he has ever known: tea made from the rind of the pomegranate to take care of the fever; the leaves of the coke plant, ideally chewed but also helpful as a tea to ease the pain; aloe to set the skin, to try and minimize the scar.

He is no healer from the Water tribe, but he finds more truth in their belief that the body is made of water instead of the one from the Fire Nation that says they rose from the ashes, so he cleans the sweat of Zuko's brow and makes him drink, sip by sip, cool water.

Iroh has never even _seen_ an Air Nomad, all them gone long before he was born, but he remembers the murals he saw at their temples, ages go.

“Breathe, Zuko,” he whispers to the convalescent boy, sitting by his side, waiting for his fever to break. “Just breathe.”


End file.
